


Sweet Silent Night

by regentzilla



Category: Seiyou Kottou Yougashiten | Antique Bakery
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 04:24:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5898094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regentzilla/pseuds/regentzilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a Christmas dinner date, Urushihara and Ito find themselves back at their favourite café.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Silent Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [graydarling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/graydarling/gifts).



“You know what we should do? We should go to Antique.”

Ito's eyebrows climbed towards her hairline. “Antique? I would love to, but are they open this late?”

Urushihara flashed a rare smile and pattered out a rhythm with her fingertips on her cheek, chin resting in her palm. “I checked earlier. They're open all night. Something about accommodating for Christmas catering.”

The two of them had long since outstayed their welcome at the restaurant they had visited for dinner. It wasn't uncommon for them to chatter back and forth about the food until every other patron had paid their bills and headed home and the staff began to hover, waiting for an opening to swoop in and ask them to kindly clear out.

“I'd love to, but... I really shouldn't... it is late, and we've had so much to eat already...”

Urushihara scoffed at her hesitation. “I've never known you to turn down dessert, Ms. Ito! And besides,” she said, lips quirking almost sinister, “it is Christmas. Who doesn't go a little overboard on Christmas?”

Ito worried her teeth against the inside of her cheek for a moment. If the person sitting across from her were anyone but Urushihara, she wouldn't have had a problem wiggling her way out with a polite refusal and a hasty retreat. But it was Urushihara, asking with her smirky lips and dark eyes framed by wavy curls that Ito knew she would have to shake a dusting of snow out of when they arrived at Antique. Ito's resolve crumbled away to nothing.

“Oh, why not?” She conceded, standing to take her coat off the back of her chair, and the genuine delight that spread across Urushihara's face was well worth it. “Let's go.”

The station was close by and the train was absolutely packed with people going to and fro from parties and dates, and Ito and Urushihara ended up smushed together near the doors. Ito had gotten on first, and so she could reach one of the overhead handles, but Urushihara had no choice but to hold onto Ito's arm for balance.

“You'll catch me if I fall, right?” Urushihara said, mouth firm but eyes dancing with a smile.

Ito was thankful that the train car's lights turned off once it started to move – if her face was only illuminated in short flashes from the windows, Urushihara was less likely to notice how absolutely burning red she was, from her collarbone to her ears. It took the entire journey for her to swallow down the lump of nerves in her throat.

The inside of Antique was dimly lit and empty. Urushihara and Ito hurried in without pause, eager to escape the snowflakes drifting down from the cold sky.

“H-hello?” Ito called, hesitant. “Pardon us, are you still open?”

A waiter – their usual one, the one with long hair and a scruffy chin – popped out from the kitchen so suddenly that Ito jumped and she swore she felt Urushihara do the same, jolting closer to her side.

“Yes, we are! My apologies. Were you waiting long?”

“Not at all,” Urushihara supplied, folding her scarf into a neat square.

The waiter disappeared into the kitchen for a moment and emerged again with two menus under one arm and two delicate crystal flutes of water on a tray in the other hand.

“Please,” he said, setting the glasses out on a table near the window, where a candle was lit and a streetlight outside illuminated the falling snow, “come in and have a seat.”

The setting was more than a little romantic and Ito hoped the waiter didn't notice her awkward fidgeting. It seemed more obvious that she felt uneasy when she was seated across from Urushihara, who was regarding the menu with a cool look.

“Tonight's special is a brownie,” the waiter said, professional as always, much to Ito's relief, “an American treat made with dark chocolate and chopped nuts, and served with French vanilla ice cream. I recommend pairing the brownie with a dark tea, or coffee, as it is quite rich and decadent.”

“The brownie, please,” Urushihara blurted out, almost before the waiter had finished, snapping her menu shut. “And do you have decaffeinated tea? If not, regular is fine.”

“We do indeed, ma'am,” the scruffy waiter said, taking the menu and tucking it beneath his arm. “And for yourself?”

“My regular,” Ito said, “and make the tea a full pot, please.” The waiter nodded, took her menu, and retreated to the kitchen. It sounded from the faint conversation like there was just a single patissier working, meaning Ito and Urushihara were truly alone in the dining area.

Urushihara quirked one preened eyebrow. “Have you been coming here without me, Ms. Ito?”

“Not often, I promise!”

“Enough to have a regular order!” Urushihara shook her head, but she was smiling. “You always get the same thing?”

“Ah, well.” Ito's lips quirked into a shy smile. “I suppose I have my favourites!”

“You ought to be a little more adventurous sometimes,” Urushihara said, bringing her glass to her mouth. “I find that being spontaneous always leads to exciting things.”

Ito reddened, almost imperceptibly in the low, warm light. For maybe the hundredth time her eyes fell on Urushihara's slim hands, nails neat and painted and fingers unadorned by rings of any kind. She hastened to pick up her own drink and take a sip just for something to do, hopeful that the water would do something to soothe her tipsy nerves. She was only tugged from her thoughts by the waiter's return, heralded by the gentle bump of the kitchen door.

The sweets were, as always, breathtaking. Their orders suited them, Ito thought, as the simple but home-style appetizing scone was placed in front of her, and the flashier and more stylish brownie was placed in front of Urushihara. The delicate antique tea set, the belly of it curled around with faint-painted vines and tiny flowers, completed the image of a scene somehow plucked out of time.

"For madam, a brownie with French vanilla ice cream, a drizzle of white chocolate, and decorated with gold flakes. The flakes are, of course, edible, so please don't feel the need to hold back. And for yourself, madam, a pumpkin scone with clotted cream and seasonal jam. This month's flavour is persimmon, a preserve sweetened with fruit juice to allow the natural light sweetness of the persimmons to blossom."

“It looks wonderful, thank you very much,” Urushihara said, and then when the waiter had left them to their food, turned to Ito, eyes devilish once again. “Isn't that what you got the first time we visited here together? Hm?”

Ito bit her lip and busied herself with halving her scone and spreading the cream across it. Steam puffed up from the fresh pastry as her knife broke through the honey-brown crisp of the outside to the pale interior.

“It grew on me,” she said. It had, for more than one reason, but Urushihara didn't need to know the details. “The jams here are so wonderful.”

“They're not too sweet, right?” It was easy to change the subject with Urushihara – all it took was one earnest mention of food and she would be off the previous topic in an instant. “So many jams are just big jars of sugar. You can't taste what it goes on at all!”

“I've always wanted to try canning my own preserves,” Ito laughed, “but I don't think my poor little kitchen could take it.”

“Use mine then,” Urushihara said without hesitating. “My son and husband visit family in the south for New Years, I have the house to myself. We'll make an evening of it.”

Ito didn't know quite how to respond to that offer, so she took a hasty bite of her scone and nodded, hoping that would be enough. Apparently it was, because Urushihara took a corner of brownie on her delicate silver spindle of a fork and filled her mouth as well.

“Oh,” Urushihara said, eyebrows curving into surprised arches, “it's very heavy, but like the jams it's not too sweet at all.”

“The food here is dangerous,” Ito said, pausing with her scone held to her lips, “I would eat it every day if I could.”

“The cold ice cream and the warm brownie are such a good combination. And the nutty flavour balances out the richness of the chocolate so well!”

Ito nodded, holding a hand to her mouth to stop from talking with her mouth full. “I've always loved the texture,” she said, once she had swallowed, “there's something to be said for soft food, but something with more texture is so–”

“Engaging?” Urushihara finished for her, pointing with one finger. Any pretenses of formality they kept up between one another evaporated when faced with food.

“Exactly! Subtle texture is nice but sometimes you just want a crunch.”

Urushihara sipped her tea, humming high and quick as she did. “The tea here is always so good, even if it's decaf. I think it's just the dishes making it seem extra fancy. I'll never get over the trust they put in their customers, giving us these things.”

“Right! I always feel like I'm having high tea with a princess when I come here.”

A pause in the conversation was enough to startle Ito – she was expecting Urushihara to fire an observation right back, keep the flow of chatter going as always, but when she jolted her gaze up from her plate she found Urushihara sporting a cheshire smile beneath pink cheeks (from the cold outside, Ito reasoned, before her cheeks could redden as well).

“Me too. Although it's easy to make any ordinary meal feel like tea with a princess when you have such excellent company.”

Ito's cheeks flushed anyway and she stammered out a thank you. She couldn't think of anything to say back and so the conversation fizzled out, though not uncomfortably – they finished their desserts in warm silence, the light of the candle fluttering across the table and reflecting bright through the crystal glasses and against the bone china plates.

“Thank you as always for your patronage,” the scruffy waiter said with a bow, once Urushihara and Ito had paid (both of them tried to pick up the entire bill but settled on splitting it, just as they had at dinner) and were headed for the door. “Please, enjoy the rest of your evening.”

As soon as the door closed behind them with a tinkle of chimes, the lights inside turned off one by one, from the front of the building to the back.

Urushihara muffled a giggle with her hand and looked up at the sky, lightening with morning. "I think we outstayed our welcome again."

Ito let her gaze follow Urushihara's across the city-line horizon and rubbed her hands over her arms, feeling the chill after being in the warmth of Antique. "Well... who doesn't go a little overboard on Christmas?"

Urushihara unfolded her scarf and with one end in either hand looped it over Ito's head. "I've taught you well," she said, pulling it snug.

The streets so far away from the heart of the city were long since abandoned by any living soul – even the stray cats that slinked around the neighbourhood had made themselves scarce, presumably on the hunt elsewhere for warmer spots.

Ito put a hand on the scarf, over her throat. "Thank you for the evening," She said, smile painted bright by the streetlight above them. "I had a lovely time."

Without a moment's pause Urushihara leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Ito's parted lips. It was so sudden and over so quick that Ito didn't have time to work past the rush of worry that her lips were cold, or worse, chapped, and actually enjoy it, but when she leaned away again Urushihara was smiling so it couldn't have been all that bad. Ito darted her tongue out and caught the faintly sweet taste of Urushihara's dessert and lipstick.

“Oh,” Ito said quietly, bringing a hand to her mouth, eyes widened in surprise. “I might change my order to what you had next time.”

Urushihara laughed and Ito buried her face in her hands.

“That was such a stupid thing to say, wasn't it,” she muffled.

She could imagine the smile on Urushihara's face, the affection in her dark eyes that made Ito's stomach twist. “It was a bit silly,” she said, and Ito's face was reddening even before she felt Urushihara press her lips to the top of her head, “but very cute.”

When Ito composed herself enough to look back up she found Urushihara with one arm extended, offering a gloved hand to be held. “May I escort you back to the station?”

Ito almost had to hide her face again, but Urushihara's frankness made it easier to pluck up her bravery and take Urushihara by the hand, and then by the arm, squishing against her side. “Nothing would make me happier,” she replied.


End file.
